Chapter 1

I think we can say that she was not, by nature, a happy woman.

She managed to maintain a fragile facade of normality but beneath that facade she was haunted by a darkness that came and went like the wax and wane of the moon. Voices in the night, a Siren Song of despair that flowed down the river of years, her world was haunted by fluttering passions and unnamed fears more disquieting than any vampire loitering in the shadows.

Jane Ashton had made the quaint English village of Elmwick her home for the past eight years. Living in Elmwick was less a conscious choice, more a confluence of circumstances that had directed that she settle there. Despite this she appeared, to a casual observer, quietly content as she settled herself into a self-made cocoon that gave her some immunity from the daily irritations that were likely to trouble her composure. She had moved into a thoughtfully restored cottage and although small, the rental was comfortably within her means. She earned a modest living working as a receptionist at the local dental surgery which she found to demand little of her abilities, maybe a little more intellectual stimulation would be welcome but she was not an ambitious woman.

The weekends were her favourite time and it was a Saturday morning into which she woke. Jane liked to sleep in on the weekends and as she drew back the veil of the curtains on the morning, she discovered that the clouds had blown away overnight to reveal the prospect of some fine days. It seemed to Jane that the capricious season had finally decided to settle itself into summer. The early sun highlighted the view casting a sheen across the marigolds and snapdragons of her small garden. The soft mist visible across the slopes was already lifting to show the shapes of the distant trees as they came swimming into view.

It was not planned, nor a regular thing for her, but Jane decided on a sudden impulse to take a walk on that fine morning; the housework could wait. After a quick shower she dressed for comfort, tied the laces on her trainers and leaving her shadowy demons behind, slipped her bag across her shoulder and set off at an easy pace feeling 'in the moment' and in search of a little tranquillity.
From the cottage gate she walked up the village high street past the old Norman church with its twelve great horse-chestnuts standing like apostles in the churchyard. Then she crossed away from the cluster of busy shops and followed the edge of the farmland until she came to the walking track that wound its way past the thickly blossoming hawthorn hedges and on to the stand of ancient oak trees. She stood for a moment gazing up at the sky through its filter of shimmering emerald foliage. Already she felt enlivened as her ears were filled with the soft babble of the stream that led its chuckling way into the river Chigwell. She threw a pebble into the water and the splash startled a bird, a hunting bird – maybe a kestrel, the name had a nice ring to it she thought. She watched as it rose effortlessly into the bright sky. Weightless, it hung on the currents of the air turning above Jane's head. Looking down with its piercing eyes it could see a different universe from the world of men, a universe filled with its fleshy desires spread out waiting to be harvested.

It was almost an hour after setting out before Jane found herself by the long abandoned water mill with its heavy oak wheel looking for all the world as if it might burst into motion at any moment. As she turned the corner, the view opened to reveal the old stone bridge that crossed the Chigwell and joined the upper slopes of the village. Starting to tire she made her way towards the bridge and stood looking over the edge of the chiselled stone into the dark water, sunlight reflecting in green flashes from the trailing weed as the water slowly slid away on its journey to the Thames.

The morning had already blossomed into a day of clear, breezy warmth and Jane was starting to feel the unfamiliar threads of happiness weave into her heart. The melancholia that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her was nothing but a shadowed memory under the sunshine. No doubt her mood had been enhanced by the invitation to dinner that Harry Colville had surprised her with only yesterday. Jane was, by general consensus, considered a little plain in appearance, not necessarily unattractive but at 34 and despite numerous brief affairs, she was still single and felt it was time for her to find a significant someone to settle down with. Harry was a successful junior in the Hammerton based, Fitch and Brompton legal firm, At 28 he was a little younger than Jane but she saw that as no impediment; it was Harry who had made the approach after all. Jane could easily imagine herself falling in love with him and on a more pragmatic note he was rather a good catch – if she could manage reel him in.

Harry lived on the outskirts of Hammerton and was only thirty minutes away from Elmwick by car which made him not only desirable but conveniently placed. Jane smiled as she watched the mid-morning sun dapple through the sycamore trees that lined the river where it bent in a curve of dark water. Across the ancient single lane bridge she could see the outside tables of the Elmwick Café nestled alongside a carefully cultivated rose garden. The café was where her nephew Oliver was working. It was a job to occupy the weeks between the end of school and the start of the university year.

Oliver Fox who was 18 had come to live with his aunt Jane nine months earlier after his parents had been tragically killed in a shockingly pointless road accident. As Oliver's only surviving relative, there was an expected familial duty which Jane bore stoically in offering a home to her elder sister's son. It was a duty she could not reasonably dismiss but her heart felt less compassion than might have been expected for the orphaned boy. Becoming a sudden parent to a boy she hardly knew rested on her shoulders as something of an imposition, in any case she had never been especially close to her sister who was twelve years her senior and had started her own family while Jane was little more than a child. Jane comforted herself with the knowledge that Oliver would, by the end of the summer, be taking a place at Kingswood University and her responsibilities for him would be at an end. The burden, and it was no real burden if Jane was honest, was nothing but a brief interlude in her life. If she had been able to approach things with more compassion for Oliver, it might have been a time to look back on with satisfaction, happiness even, but Jane was only able to see her duty to her sister's son in a more shadowy light. It was a duty to be completed with as little disturbance as possible to her own routine. She found Oliver to be quiet, self contained and undemanding of her time and this suited her well. He disappeared for an early morning run every day and by the time he got back she had already left for work. Her nephew was like a fleeting shadow glimpsed from the corner of her eye, hardly noticed.

Oliver was already at work preparing for the day. He could be found in the back room beyond the kitchens and was seated on one of the window-seats, that backed onto the rose garden. The window-seats were freshly painted white and the room still held a trace of the paint's distinctive odour. Above them the casement windows were open allowing a soft breeze to lift Emma's blond hair. She looked very pretty as Oliver closely watched her skilfully applying lipstick. Emma was 16 and worked for her mother as a waitress during much of the holidays.
"Nice colour." Oliver observed in the quiet soft voice that came naturally to him.

Emma smiled at him her eyes sparkling with mischievous insight.
"I like it," She said "It's a pretty colour that might suit you." She held out the lipstick to Oliver "Would you like to try it?"

Oliver hesitated for just an instant too long before blushing a 'don't be silly'. Despite the words he knew that Emma was fully in tune with his inclinations; trying to deny that he was tempted to try the pink lipstick was pointless.

"Go on... no one will mind, you've already done your eyeliner." Emma's voice bubbled with good humoured laughter.

"Just you leave the poor boy alone Emma." They both turned to the voice that loomed from the main kitchen. It was Fiona Wilson, Emma's mother and proprietor of the Elmwick Café. "Now come on you two, we have customers to serve." Emma gave that exasperated sigh that teenagers are so innately skilled at when negotiating the fluctuations of their lives with their parents.

"OK Mum... such a slave driver." Her eyes lifting in exaggerated faux irritation. "I'm only working as a waitress during my holidays as a favour to you."

"That and the huge fortune you'll earn." Her mother countered. Emma laughed.

"Yeah right." She knew that her mother could see straight through her, in a way she still rather liked that level of intimate understanding. If she was pushing the envelope towards adulthood and independence, she was still comforted by her mother's unconditional love. Pretending indifference she picked up the aprons that were the closest thing the staff had to a uniform. They were spotless white linen with a screen printed 'Elmwick Café' logo placed in the lower corner. The logo had been designed by one of Fiona's friends long before the café was a reality and the art work had been the final spur needed for Fiona to bring her aspiration to fruition.

Emma tied one of the aprons round Oliver's trim waist. It hung just above his knees and Emma stood back admiring her handiwork.

"Looks just like a pretty white skirt, don't suppose you mind that Olivia."

"It's Oliver thank you and no I don't mind at all." He said with a quiet smile.

As he followed Emma out towards the tables Fiona caught his hand.

"Just come to my office for a moment will you?"

"Of course... is there a problem?"

"I hope not."

The office was a small room where Fiona took care of the inevitable paperwork once the last customers of the day had disappeared. She sat on the edge of her desk, legs crossed her foot gently swinging making the impromptu meeting feel informal.

"I hope you don't take Emma's teasing to heart Oliver."

"No, not at all I like her, she has no malice in her... not like others I've known."

"Well that's good... Look I don't want to tread on your toes but if you would like to... express your feminine side a little more openly, then I would be fully supportive. If you would like to dress a little more like a girl then it would be no problem for me; I know Emma would be keen to help you if you would like that. We could change your name tag to stop any confusion... I know many of our customers already assume you're a girl just from your general deportment."

Oliver was rather taken aback by the observation. He was not really trying to look like a girl, not yet. But beyond the surprise he was moved by the kindness that Fiona expressed. He wished his aunt Jane could show as much kind insight. Almost without stopping to think he embraced Fiona in a warm hug. Fiona's maternal instinct was kicked into overdrive and she held Oliver close. He had been so long without the comfort of arms round him that he could not help the tears that ran down his cheeks.

"Oh Oliver you poor dear girl..."

"No, no Mrs Wilson, I'm fine... It's just that understanding words have been so rare since my parents died; your kindness just opened the flood gates... I'm sorry to make a fool of myself."
"Not at all sweety, I admire your courage in dealing with what you're going through. Now dry your eyes.. you might want to redo your eyeliner." She added with a chuckle. "But remember what I said, I meant every word." Fiona handed Oliver a box of tissues and he made good use of them.

"You are so kind Mrs Wilson... But I have decided to wait until I go up to university before I plunge headlong into my transformation. For the moment I'm happy straddling the gender fence. For so long I've had to suppress my true nature just to survive at school that I feel I have to move slowly or I might burst."

"OK... I think can understand that... if you need to talk, or need another hug any time, you know where I am."
Oliver nodded and dabbed at his eyes once more.
"Take a moment sweety and then I could use your calm efficiency in working those tables... Show my flighty daughter how a dedicated waitress should perform her duties."

Oliver had spent his difficult schooldays constantly battling to conceal all trace of his natural tendencies but now, very slowly, he was starting to allow what he had always known to be his true gender to push up into the light like a germinating seedling and following Mrs Wilson's words of support he knew that he no longer had to face the future alone... There were some compassionate people out there after all.

Jane crossed the bridge and headed towards the café, she could already smell the alluring aroma of roasting coffee beans as it drifted towards her on the air. It was a nice morning to take coffee, it would be a waste not to take advantage; perhaps she would indulge in one of the irresistible little cakes that they usually had on offer. Taking a seat she looked towards the café entrance for any sign of Oliver, he waved to her as their eyes met across the tables and she offered him the familiar smile that she kept especially for her nephew, the one that expressed patient resolve rather than any real warmth.

With his long hair and dressed in a loose cotton top, tiny shorts and with the apron round his waist, he looked an exact match for the flirty girl who Jane had identified as the owner's daughter. She found herself muttering to herself:

"They could almost be sisters."

Oliver weaved his way across the tables to where his aunt was waiting.
"Hello aunt Jane... coffee?"

"Mm... Yes, you might even be able to press me to one of those cream éclairs; you know the ones I like."

"OK, back in a minute..."
Jane could not help noticing the eyeliner that he wore just like the goths she had sometimes seen congregating like a huddle of lost souls by the school gates. She smiled remembering her own misguided fashion sense as a teenager. Those days... those happy days, did not seem so far away but in truth she had changed so much since then. Now the shadows of her inner darkness were never far away, constantly waiting to nudge into her peripheral vision.

When Oliver returned Jane nodded toward the unoccupied chair.
"Can you sit for a moment?"

Oliver looked round guiltily before taking the seat.

"Just for a moment I should get back... we're starting to get busy."

"I just wanted to comment on your... what shall I call it?... your fashion sense Oliver." Jane wiped a little whipped cream from the edge of her éclair with the tip her index finger and licked it clean before spending a few moments giving her nephew some unwanted advice:
"Oliver, I think this is what your would mother would want me to say... I really think you should make an effort to appear a little more masculine darling. From a distance, it has to be said, you are starting to look more like a girl than a boy. I know its the fashion these days to have that androgynous look but if I didn't know better I might think you were gay."

Oliver stood, he was unconcerned by his appearance, possibly flattered to hear that he looked like a girl even if only from a distance.
"What ever I am Aunt Jane, rest assured I'm definitely not gay."

"No of course... Not that it would matter." She added pointedly "Just think over what I said."
Oliver bent down and kissed his aunt's cheek; he was determined not to let her tragically unperceptive view of him spoil his day.

"I will... It'll only be a few weeks and I'll be out of your hair for good so please don't worry about me Aunt Jane. I already know exactly what my mother would say about my appearance... Now I really must get back to work."

Jane watched as he walked away, there was a definite feminine sway to the way he walked, it was not unattractive and with his shoulder length hair she thought him handsome in an adolescent way – beautiful even. At almost 19 he had still not lost the innocent look of childhood as if he had been caught in a time warp or had had a spell cast on him holding him back from the effects of puberty. Jane smiled as she sipped from her cup, her thoughts drifting, not for the first time, to an indiscrete place. If Oliver was not her nephew... if he was a little older... Then... The fantasy sent a delightful shiver of guilt down her spine which she chose not to fully acknowledge. Anyway she now had the prospect of a relationship with Harry Colville an exceedingly handsome real man of undoubtedly powerful masculinity.

As Oliver walked past a table, as if to confirm Jane's observations, and elderly man, seated with his wife, raised his hand:
"Excuse me miss," he said to Oliver "could my wife and I have another of these delicious scones?"

"Of course you may Sir." Oliver said with what the watchful aunt Jane took for a slight curtsey.

"A curtsey for God's sake... So much for my advice" she thought. Jane let the moment pass with a sigh and an inward shrug; the advice had been given if he chose to ignore it then, fine.

Oliver was grateful for his aunt's care over the last few months. If she had been kinder to him he may have been more open to her about his situation; more open about his continuing hormone treatment that had been started before he had lost his parents. As it was, he thought it better to keep such things from her. He had already developed the start of feminine hips and had breasts now, small maybe but real breasts – instead of celebrating them he waited patiently keeping them bound and concealed under baggy clothing in case his aunt should see them. His focus was on his future; he was soon to move to out of his aunt's orbit to Kingswood to take a degree in modern languages and he hoped to start his new life there as a different person – the young woman that he was, by stealth, already becoming.

Oliver's parents had left a detailed will leaving twenty percent of their estate to Jane and everything else to Oliver. His aunt Jane was named as his legal guardian until he started at university or reached the age of twenty. In the meantime Jane would administer his inheritance under the guidance of the family solicitor and take an income to cover Oliver's expenses. His aunt would soon release his inheritance which would support him comfortably until he graduated and beyond. He felt nothing but gratitude for his aunt but because of the disdain in which she seemed to hold him, Jane was already starting to blur into a hazy irrelevance for him as he stretched out to embrace his imminent womanhood.
 
 
 
 

Chapter 2

The Summer seemed to fly past and soon Oliver was working his last week at the café. He was to finish at the café on the following Saturday which would leave him a few days to prepare before relocating to Kingswood. His time at the café had been enjoyable, undemanding work maybe but the environment had been a huge improvement, his days were full of happiness instead of the constant fear he had felt at school. He especially drew joy from being able to make friends with Emma and her mother who were both accepting of his gender issue. Fiona Wilson had tried to intervene with Oliver's aunt Jane, suggesting that she should not be so critical of his androgynous nature. Unfortunately the advice had not gone down well and the two women parted as – the best of enemies, Jane vowing never to set foot in the Elmwick Café again.
Oliver took this news about his aunt as an opportunity. His previous intention to continue identifying as male until he left his aunt now seemed less vital, and he had, with Fiona's help slipped easily into working at the café as a girl.

There were now two Olivers; one sat silently at home, pale faced, dressed in old jeans and baggy shirts, hair tied back still pretending to be a boy. The other Oliver was bright and smiling, he had become the princess of the café and might be found in skin tight jeans or even a tight black skirt with a pretty pink shirt. This Oliver showed a face glowing with delicate smokey eyes, a trace of blusher along the cheekbones and yes pink lipstick. Her name tag read Olivia and her blond hair in all its glory was released from its captivity to flaunt seductively as she floated between the tables. Nature had made Oliver beautiful, the blossoming of the fact had waited patiently for her femininity to be exposed. She stopped short of perfume because the lingering scent would be hard to disguise as Olivia, increasingly reluctantly, changed back into Oliver each evening.

"I'm really going to miss you when when you go to Kingswood." Emma said hugging Olivia. "Here I got you these." She said with a trace of self-consciousness as she handed Olivia a small carefully wrapped parcel tied with delicate curling ribbon.

"You shouldn't have Emma, that's so kind."

"Well it's your last day... we may not see each other again."

"I'll make sure to stay friends with you and your mum. I promise."

Olivia turned the gift over in her delicate fingers. She had let her nails grow a little and was wearing pink varnish for the first time in public. It was a simple thing but having feminine hands did more to lift Olivia's spirits than she could say.

"Well open it then..." Emma pressed.
Emma had bought Olivia a pair of dangling silver earrings, Olivia held them up and watched the sunlight flash against the tooled metal.

"They're beautiful... thank you so so much... not just for these but for being my friend." She kissed Emma on the cheek.

"Who couldn't be your friend Olivia... you're such a sweet person."

"A lot of people would not be my friend Emma... those who claimed to be my friends at school would drift away leaving me to my fate as soon as the school bullies gathered."

"That's so sad, I'm sorry about that... If we had been at the same school, I would have stood by your side."

"I think you just might have Emma... I would have loved to have been transferred to a girl's school but my parents thought otherwise, they said it might be opening a whole other can of worms."

"Those days are over now Olivia... Look, I don't know how you feel about this but I've been invited to party on Saturday, I've been told I can bring a friend... will you come?"
Olivia felt excited by the invitation but there was a nervous hesitation in her response.

"I'd like to... Will there be anyone there that I know?"

"Just me... don't worry, it's mostly girls from my school, a few boyfriends probably but even if there is someone who knew Oliver, no one is going to recognise you if you dress as Olivia."

"You're sure?"

"I can totally guarantee it."

"OK, I'll come..." Olivia bounced on her toes and let out a little bubbly laugh. "How do we get there?"

"Come over to our place, you can change there and my private chauffeur, AKA 'Mum' will drive us."

Jane was struggling a little with her relationship with Harry, she found him obviously handsome, attentive, supportive and a good listener. He was very generous with his time and money towards her, she could hardly imagine a better potential husband. Harry seemed to like her well enough but at times she wondered what the deliciously masculine young man had seen in her. She felt the gnawing internal voice whispering doubts that his interest in her was based on something less than the romance she was looking for. The progression into intimacy had been slow, not moving much beyond kissing. She knew that her own reticence in these matters might be partly to blame but Harry had made no advances pressing her to sleep with him which she had rather expected to have happened by now. Jane was growing increasingly keen to get Harry into her bed so that the relationship could be better cemented. To this end she had invited him to dinner at the cottage. She would feed him, ply him with drink and using what she knew of seduction, use her honeyed words to entice the man into her bedroom. From there it would be up to Harry to show his metal. Jane was conceited enough to not consider the possibility that Harry would not be aroused by her if she made the offer sufficiently explicit.

Oliver had told Jane that he had been invited to a party, something of a rare event for her nephew and she took the news with surprise. But it gave her the opportunity to have the cottage to herself for the evening and was the ideal time to invite Harry to dinner. So she had eagerly encouraged Oliver to accept the invitation; for his own good of course.

On the evening of the party Oliver gathered his things into a shoulder bag and set off for the Wilson home. As he walked up the high street a silver BMW eased its way past him and pulled into the cottage driveway. "Must be the boyfriend" Oliver thought. He mused that it was strange that his aunt had never invited the boyfriend home before but Oliver's mind was on other things. He walked up past the fields where they kept horses, in the distance he saw a handsome animal galloping up the grassy rise. The stallion ran with the wind, his head and tail up in exuberance. His life was simple; confined to his paddock, in the emerald curve of his grassy universe, he did not know that he was not free and that meant that he was free. "Could you envy the simple life of a horse?" Oliver wondered.
Emma and her mother lived within walking distance of the café and he was soon admitted into their home. It was effused with an atmosphere of happiness and simple homely comfort, a contrast to his aunt's cottage which he found pleasant enough but somehow lacking in emotional warmth. Oliver was made to feel instantly at home as Fiona welcomed him.
"Hello Olivia sweety, now you two girls go and get ready I know it will take you ages and we need to set off in less than an hour."
Emma led Olivia into her room. It was no child's bedroom, no cutesy pink walls or scatterings of soft toys. Emma had stamped her style on the room. Painted in muted pastel shades, there was a touch of grown up glamour with weathered wood furniture. A subtle hand painted flight of butterflies floating across the end wall gave it an unapologetic feminine touch while the windows were curtained in shabby-chic print cotton which continued the butterfly theme.

"Oh I love your room Emma."

"Thanks, I did it myself... with a little help from the dragon."

Olivia laughed. "There's no way your mother is a dragon."

"No I know... but you have to keep mothers on their toes." She laughed and drew Olivia onto her bed. "Show me what you're going to wear... I can't wait to see."

"Well... I went shopping... got a few things..." Olivia delved into her bag and took out a gift wrapped package. "I got this for you Emma."

"Oh it's gorgeous..." Emma said as she lifted a printed silk scarf from the carefully opened gift wrap. "I love it, it's so elegant... I'm totally wearing this tonight."

"So this is what I've got... I hope its not too grown up looking." Olivia drew out a sleeveless cocktail dress in a muted lilac almost grey shade. It hung in an elegantly draped style. With a modest neckline revealing just a glimpse of cleavage, the dress exuded a simple yet classically chic style. Olivia had paired it with nude thin strapped heels and a matching bag. "I'm going to wear the earrings you bought me." She said "I've got lipstick and nail polish to match the dress and some lovely sheer grey stockings.

"That dress is so sophisticated you are going to look fantastic... I'm going to feel like a little girl beside you."

"It's not too much is it?... Buying dresses is all a bit new to me."

"No it's perfect, I can't wait to see you in it. If there are any boys there they'll all be drooling over you."

Olivia laughed. Boys had always been something for her to fear – the harbingers of physical and emotional pain. But lately as her transition had progressed she had caught her imagination glimpsing the attractions of men through a brighter prism.

When the girls finally emerged from Emma's room, Fiona was already waiting with car keys jangling impatiently in her hand.

"Wow... I mean Wow. Olivia you look stunning..."

Olivia blushed but she did feel good. This was the first time she had really dressed to fully show off her femininity and it seemed to have been successful.

"And what about me?" Emma said.

"Oh you always look stunning darling, there's no need to remind you of that... is that a new scarf?"

"Olivia bought it for me... isn't it divine?"

"Olivia, that was so kind... you have such great taste... I can see I'll have to take you along next time I go shopping. Now lets get you off to Priory Hill, I have things of my own to do..."

Jane was standing by her open door as Harry slid from the leather seat of his car. He immediately noticed that she had made an extra effort with her makeup, possibly too much effort Harry mused. She was also wearing a rather revealing blouse and a tight skirt. If she had known that Harry preferred his women to be prettily demure rather than tarty, she might have presented herself differently.

"Not late am I Jane?"

"No, I just heard your car pull up and came to meet you." Jane took his face in her hands and pulling him towards her, kissed his lips before drawing him into the cottage. There was the pleasant scent of dinner coming from the kitchen. Onions sautéing over a low heat, the aroma of baking, of sliced apples, of honey and raisins and spices. Without speaking Jane handed her guest a large glass of red wine and pulled him down onto the sofa next to her. Harry swirled the wine and took a sniff.

"Mm, Cabinet Sauvignon this is the good stuff; I'm honoured Jane but I'll have to limit myself to one glass I'm afraid."

Jane nestled herself under his arm, her cheek against Harry's chest while her fingers seductively rested on his thigh. Jane could not quite believe it but she almost felt Harry squirm a little as she pulled herself close to him.

"If you're worried about drinking and driving... there's really no need for you to leave until morning; I've put clean sheets on my bed... it might be nice if we were to find some mutual comfort in it."

"Oh... I'm sorry I hadn't realised... the fact is Jane I've already promised to pick up Charles Fitch's daughter from some teenager party she attending. Charles is out of town on a conference and I drew the short straw. I'm so sorry Jane but I'll have to leave by just after eleven at the latest."

Jane pouted, her disappointment was palpable but not unexpected, a little voice had been whispering such things to her all day.
"Oh well there'll be plenty more opportunities for us to get to know each other a little better."

"Yes, of course." The need to pick up his boss's daughter sounded like an excuse when he uttered the words but it was nevertheless the truth. however the escape it offered him was not unwelcome. This new Jane was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. He would never admit it to her but his initial invitation to take her to dinner was offered as a kindness, not quite pity but the offer came from his innate compassion. He saw Jane as a lonely and possibly depressed woman. He had seen depression before and it had not ended well. He simply wanted to offer Jane his friendship. From his point of view there had never been any real romantic feelings. In fact Harry had been mulling over how he could let Jane down gently and end their relationship.

"We can still enjoy a nice dinner together" Jane said as her fingers continued their relentless progress up his unreceptive thigh.

On the other side of Elmwick the new cluster of houses built for the commuting affluent nestled on the slope of Priory Hill. One of the houses was still lit up, festooned with coloured lights that hung in the trees outside the property. Party music was still drifting up into the clear night air but in deference to the hour, was now softly muted. The party had been a great success but was starting to wind down.

Olivia, despite her fears, had simply passed as a young woman, there was no suggestion that she might be anything other. When she and Emma had first been welcomed, Olivia froze on seeing a boy she knew from school. She knew him to be cruel and he had on more that one occasion launched some viscous invective at Oliver who retreated into his shell of silent self protection. Now this paragon of the male gender seemed to want to get close to her. Olivia took some perverse pleasure in turning down his requests to dance and when he persisted she managed to quietly deflate his ego when she told him that she didn't dance with little boys... maybe he should ask one of the younger girls. After that he did not bother her again. Emma had been correct, no one did or could recognise her. As the guests started to leave Emma pulled Olivia out onto the street to wait for their 'chauffeur' to return.

"Did you have fun?"

"More than you can imagine Emma, I'm so glad I came."
"Me too."

Olivia's attention was caught by a silver BMW that glided to a halt outside the house.

A pretty girl, she looked much the same age as Emma, waved to the driver who got out of the car and smiling held open the door for her. As his passenger got into the car the driver's gaze was caught by Olivia's face, the curve of her cheek edged prettily with light from the open door. She looked a little older than the others; perhaps an elder sister chaperoning the teenagers. He did not know her name, had never seen her before, but watched as the breeze lifted her hair. As she moved a thin ribbon of light streaked over the fold of her mauve dress falling on the pale rise of her breast. She was slender and tall in her heels. Some girls look elegant in tall heels while others just look ungainly, wobbling like a newly dropped foal. She seemed to glow radiant in the soft light. As he watched her, thinking that this woman was way out of his league, Olivia lifted her eyes to him and for a moment he convinced himself that she had noticed him. But then her glance slid away, like a silk scarf sliding from a polished table. He might have known. "How could such a beautiful young woman notice someone like him?" He thought, but his insides still turned to jelly.

Olivia stood by the side of the road as the soft music spilled across the road. She had noticed the man and as their eyes met for that brief instant, she felt something that she had never experienced before. As the orb of the moon watched from the dark sky, Olivia's heart fluttered.

A few days later the persistent Jane invited Harry to lunch at the cottage. She was starting to grow anxious that she had been unable to entice Harry into a closer relationship and hoped that a more casual lunch date might be able to reset things after the disappointing dinner. Jane now realized she had played her hand too forcefully. Harry, she had come to see, was a man who needed wooing rather than seducing. A slender distinction maybe but this was to be her next approach.

It was only days before Oliver was due to leave his aunt's cottage. Disguised with some difficulty as a boy again he sat on the sofa reading.
"Will you be home for lunch?" Jane asked him.

"I have no other plans, I need to finish my packing this afternoon."

"Well Harry is coming for lunch..."

"You want me out of the way?"

"Well that sounds a little harsh, in fact I would like you to meet Harry... but if you were disappear after the introductions, I would raise no objections."

Oliver smiled he was well tuned in to knowing when he was not wanted.

"Understood." Oliver said, he had no interest in impeding his aunt's love-life. From what he could gather she was already struggling to keep the man's interest and he knew how much this 'Harry' person meant to her. In fact Olivia was now suffering with her own romantic feelings. Her mind slipped back to the evening of the party and the brief distant encounter with the man she had seen across the street. Since that transient moment she had been unable to get the troubling but delightful thoughts of the man from her mind and if this is what Aunt Jane was feeling then Olivia wished her well.

As Jane let Harry into the cottage she notice a strange diffidence in his manner as if things had changed between them. This was not something deliberate on Harry's part but he still found himself caught up in a strange longing for the young woman he had glimpsed at the night of the party. Their eyes had met for maybe five seconds but that brief moment threatened to change the entire course of his life. How could he explain that to Jane?

Oliver was in his room, he had made himself a peanut butter sandwich and was sorting, between delicate bites, through his books... the leather bound copy of Pride and Prejudice that his mother has bought for him was obviously a keeper, as was Camus' L'Etranger that he had struggled to read in French when he was sixteen. The paperback copy of The Undomestic Goddess by Sophie Kinsella... maybe not; he slipped it onto the growing undecided pile.

"Oliver darling, come and say hello to Harry."

"Coming..."

The shock when Oliver saw Harry was beyond description. Immediately he recognised the man from the party. He felt a deep red blush rising up his neck and blossoming on his cheeks. His legs started to tremble and he found himself unable to muster his thoughts into any sense of coherence, let alone form any sensible conversation.

Harry stared at Oliver, there was a lurch in his chest. This boy had the exact same face as the young woman who's brief glance had left him infatuated.

"Oliver... nice to meet you at last." Harry managed.

"Hi... Sorting my... things... books..." He blurted and turned his face back to his room.

"You don't have a sister do you Oliver?" Harry called to the rapidly retreating boy.

"No he's an only child," Jane answered for him. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing... he just reminds me of someone."

"Well Oliver needs to get on now, he's packing for his move to Kingswood."

"Oh... well nice to have met you Oliver."

Oliver smiled and quickly sought refuge behind the closed door of his room. He sat on the edge of his bed his mind in turmoil.

It was an hour later when there was a quiet tap against his door. He opened it a crack and once more saw the man that had left him trembling. In hushed tones, as if he did not want Jane to hear, Harry slipped Oliver his business card.

"Look, will you please give me a call on my mobile number, you would be doing me an enormous favour if we can just talk."

"Harry... where are you?" They could hear Jane's sing-song voice echoing from the kitchen. Oliver took the card.
"It was you I saw picking up the girl at Priory Hill." Oliver said.

"I knew it was you... please call me." Harry whispered, his voice barely perceptible as Jane's footfall could be heard behind him. He turned his face towards the kitchen for an instant and when he turned back Oliver's door had already silently closed.

 
 
 
 

Chapter 3

The long awaited transformation from Oliver to Olivia took place on the train to Kingswood, the journey, station to station was scheduled for one hour and twenty minutes; it usually took longer. Most of Oliver's meagre possessions had already been forwarded to his newly leased studio apartment so he was travelling light. Oliver boarded the 10:04 to Kingswood dressed in a baggy T shirt, high waist women's dove grey leggings, that he had convinced himself were unisex, and a pair of dangerously pink trainers. He had a bag slung over his shoulder in which he had carefully folded a change of clothing. When he emerged from the train's toilet, he was wearing a floral print short sleeve blouse over his liberated breasts that were now supported in in a lacy bra. His tied back hair had been released and brushed to a fullness and a pair of sling-back wedge heels had replaced the trainers. He wore no makeup and to pass unnoticed as a woman he really needed none.

It took Olivia only a short time to install herself in her furnished apartment. It was on the top floor of a three story Victorian brick house accessed by a shared set of stairs. Olivia's choice of accommodation was influenced to some extent by the lack of other students in the building. Most would have preferred to live in the hall of residence or share a flat with a group of other students. But Oliver's school experience had left him wary of his fellows and not unexpectedly Olivia, with possibly less reason, shared her alter ego's nervousness. Olivia was by nature and by necessity rather a loner but that did not mean that there was no desire for someone special in her life. Maybe someone to share her morning run across the park or even just be waiting with a cold drink when she got back.

The money from Olivia's inheritance had been invested and generated a small income and with that and nibbling at the edges of the capital, Olivia could cover the lease and allow herself a modestly comfortable lifestyle. After collecting the keys to her new home Olivia spent the morning sorting out her belongings and settling in. The afternoon was set aside for some much needed emergency shopping. Her lack of women's clothes was as evident as it was inevitable; she intended to correct the shortfall as soon as possible and arrived home some hours later laden with bags of clothes and necessities. The excitement of unpacking her shopping finally over, Olivia collapsed exhausted into her bed for an early night.

The next morning, still dressed in her printed cotton PJs, she made herself toast and a cup of mint tea. There were still a few days before the start of term and now that the immediate rush of hectic activity had quietened, Olivia's thoughts were able to settle again on the card that Harry had left her.

When he had asked her to call him, her immediate impulse had been to do so straight away but then a nervousness had set in and somehow the call had been neglected. Maybe it was the fear that she had totally misread Harry's intentions, that she would be made to feel a fool or left disappointed and bereft. She knew that to calm her confused state there was only one course of action. With trembling fingers she took out her phone, hesitated for a moment as her heart started pounding in her chest and then entered Harry's number.

He answered almost immediately as if he had been holding his phone waiting for her call since he had slipped her his card.
"Harry Colville"

"You asked me to call... we met briefly at Jane's cottage."

"It's Oliver is it?"

"I go by the name of Olivia now... you may have guessed from the night of the party that I..."

"Olivia... I love the sound of that name... Look what I wanted to say was that I was entranced by that brief glimpse, I knew I had to see you, to talk to you."
"You understand that I'm transgender?"

"Yes, I see that now... It really doesn't matter to me. Look Olivia, this is going to sound absurd, but what I felt for you was like some mystical flash of connection. I've never believed in all that 'love at first sight' nonsense but that feeling went beyond any concerns about gender identity. I felt that I had caught a glimpse of my soul mate on that magical evening."

Olivia was thrilled and stunned by the words she heard. She could think of nothing to say beyond a pathetic little "Oh..." Harry filled the ensuing silence with more nervously cobbled words of his own:

"Look I don't want to come over as some sort of idiot caught up in a self-invented romantic fantasy, please don't let my jabberings put you off... the thing is... I hoped that you felt something too when we saw each other across that moonlit street... If you did then maybe you would like to meet me."

"Harry that's rather a lot to digest. I can't deny that you have been in my thoughts too but my coming out as a woman is a new thing for me. Even my aunt does not know yet so please don't tell her about me."

"No, no I never would, you can trust me on that."

Despite feeling desperate to leap at Harry's offer, her words were more considered:

"OK... but I don't feel as if I'm ready yet to get involved with anyone, I'm still discovering who I am."

"I'm not asking you to rush into anything... All I want is to meet you, spend a little time and see if my obsession is real."

"But what about Jane, I know she has feelings for you and hopes for a future with you."

"Even before I first saw you, I had been trying to find a way to let Jane down softly. Romance was never really my motivation in spending time with her, now that I've come to know her better I realise that she is not the woman for me. I'm sorry to say this about your aunt but Olivia, I find her a little too morbidly self obsessed..."

Olivia could not help the little laugh that bubbled prettily from her throat.

"I know what you mean Harry... So where do you want to meet?" She said as if his matching view of Jane had been all that was needed to tip her off the edge of her caution.

"Are you in Kingswood?" Harry said.

"Yes."

"Me too... Could I possibly buy you lunch?" There was a brief hesitation from Olivia as she considered the implications. "Look no strings... just lunch and a talk." Harry said.

"OK but I'll need to share the bill."

"If you must, that's fine; do you know the Wycliffe Arms restaurant?"

"On Ockham street by the monument?"

"I'll meet you there at twelve."

"Make it one o'clock can you?... A girl has to make herself presentable."

"Thank you so much Olivia, I'll see you soon."

The phone went dead and Olivia stared at the screen for long minutes. Already she missed him and yet she knew nothing about the man.
In a sudden panic she thought of what she might wear, if not for yesterday's shopping trip she would have had nothing at all beyond the lovely cocktail dress and that was not really suitable for a lunch... 'date'... "Could she call it a date?" she wondered.

"Yes it's a date." She said out loud as she twirled across the room. "I have a date."

Olivia found that getting ready for her meeting with Harry came with a whirlwind of emotions. There were nerves, excitement, anticipation, and so much more. She discovered that she felt the need to impress Harry and so there was the selection of what to wear. Her wardrobe was still modest, Most of her clothes had been of a unisex style. The few male clothes she had owned had been carefully washed then bagged and left at the Oxfam shop. Much of what remained was intended for her day to day life as a student. She still felt the need to primp and polish every inch of her body and to dress in something that would catch Harry's eye yet still appear casual. She wanted youthful elegance, prettiness rather than glamour and from her limited clothing resources she chose her pretty floral tie-waist dress to be paired with her only jacket: a smart mushroom coloured summer weight double breasted jacket adorned with gold buttons. The only suitable footwear she had were the pair of low heel wedge shoes that she had worn on the train. She chose to wear her simple cuff bracelet and a pair of faux pearl stud earrings. A spritz of the Gucci Bloom Perfume, that Fiona Wilson had given her as an unexpected going away present, would she hoped, add a sensuous touch. A little subtle smokey eye makeup and nude lipstick would complete her look.

Olivia hurriedly headed to the shower. Once dried she tucked her unwanted boy bits away and put on her prettiest underwear. She curled her hair with her styling wand and dressed before doing her makeup. The restaurant was only a twenty minute walk away from her flat and to help calm her feathering nerves she decided to walk to the restaurant, past the shady cloisters and library courtyards, through the business district and on to the scattering of shops that edged up to the restaurant on the corner. Already she could see the tall stance of the monument set in it's green square of grass. Checking the time, Olivia increased her pace a little. It was a fine day, a gentle breeze fluttered the feathers of the pigeons that scurried across the flagstones. The sky was a pale blue that looked almost translucent as if you might see into heaven and catch a glimpse of an angel's face. Instead she saw Harry's face.

He was standing in the shadows of Ockham Street by the entrance to the restaurant. She felt a shiver of nervous excitement as he lifted his eyes to her and smiled. Such a smile. Olivia closely observed him as her paces drew her towards him. He had a sportsman's body, tall and lean muscled. "Here was a man able to take care of himself" she thought. He had black hair curling over his ears in a tidy but carefree style. His stance appeared considerate and calm but a man who would stand his ground if necessary. He just oozed masculinity, not the aggressive boorish sort but a more considered protective strength that she remembered from her father, whom she had adored like only a daughter can – long before he knew her as his daughter. Harry's close presence, his undoubted interest in her made Olivia melt into her femininity like never before.

As she stood before him, her breath fluttering, he took her fingers in his warm hands and they kissed cheeks, a delicate touch no more but it was enough to make Olivia's knees feel weak. He held the door open for her and ushered her inside. The atmosphere was calming, softly lit with the faint hint of guitar music making a background tapestry to the hushed sound of relaxed conversation. Olivia removed her Jacket as they were seated, they sat across the table from each other and Harry, after ordering, moved his eyes to his young companion. Olivia already appeared as an elegant woman, with a natural refinement that made her obvious prettiness seem almost unnecessary. Her shining blue eyes were examining him from under her mascaraed lashes. She glanced at him, then her eyes danced away, as if in shyness. He smiled as he watched her attention pause then slowly, as if compelled, her eyes turned back to him resting on his face, her mouth reflecting his smile as if he was the only man in the world.

They had a little wine, to accompany their roast aubergine salad with feta and almonds. Then they shared a Tiramisu. Olivia found it a delightful lunch; improved beyond measure by the company. The early part had been filled with small talk but over coffee Harry edged the conversation towards his reason for asking Olivia to accompany him.

"Now that I've properly met you Olivia, I have to say that my feelings have only been confirmed... I've never been affected so much by a woman before. I just don't want to lose that feeling."

Olivia's breath had been taken away by Harry's words and she simply smiled at him as he continued:

"The fact is my life has been in rather a turmoil lately... I'm in the process of changing jobs; the details were settled weeks ago before I first saw you but the legal firm I'm moving to is based in Kingswood and I'm looking for somewhere to live locally. On top of that I've been struggling with finding a way to let Jane down; she seems to have been rather throwing herself at me just lately which has not helped... and then out of the blue I saw you...and my universe took a sideways lurch."

"Did it?" Olivia smiled at him her gaze had settled on his brown eyes. "I'm sorry if the sight of me has added to your turmoil Harry." She said.
"Why don't I quite believe that?" Harry said. Olivia laughed.

"OK, I admit it... I like the fact that you are infatuated by me because I feel exactly the same way about you and now we've met I find you a person that I might also be able to trust."

Harry could see a reticence in Olivia, he understood that her life had not been easy.

"Go on." He said.

"Well you already know my situation... but life as a boy was barely worth living... you can not imagine how it was."

"So tell me."

There was a long pause before Olivia answered.

"The first time I tried dressing as a girl in public, I was naive and inexpert. I was far from being able to pass and was harassed by people on the street that I did not even know. I can remember every detail, what time it was, what I was wearing, how I'd done my hair, everything is etched onto my memory. Mostly I remember what they said and how they said it with real hatred. For years I lived in fear that it might happen again so I hid myself away, kept my head down, tried to be a boy but everyone at school knew my 'secret' and I could not escape their taunts and worse. Without my parents I don't think I would have survived."

"When you say taunts and worse what do you mean?"

Olivia's eyes glazed with tears.

"Verbal abuse and physical abuse... I was often beaten up and once.... " Olivia's voice broke into little more than a whisper. "I was raped with a bottle Harry purely to humiliate me."

Harry took Olivia's hand.

"You poor girl... Forgive me for asking such an indelicate question. I really had no idea that there were still people out there like that."

"There was no future for me as a boy but I promised myself that I would not present as a girl again until I was a hundred percent confident that I could pass as female. I don't believe that I'm gay Harry I just feel that I am a woman who wants to be attractive to straight men."

"You are Olivia... trust me in that."

"Thank you..." She gave him a shy little smile. "I want to be able to walk down the street holding a man's hand without attracting awkward glances, to be able to smile at a child without being thought a pervert. My parents were the only ones who knew the true me. They found me an understanding doctor and I was started on hormone therapy... As you can see I look mostly like a girl now. But Harry you must understand that I'm still pre-operation my doctor wants me to wait another year before I have surgery. I have nice little breasts and a shapely figure, a feminine face and voice but I still have male genitals. I already know that that you would never be hateful to me but if any of what I've said is a problem for you, then we should walk away now before things become complicated."

Harry watched the emotion tremble across Olivia's face, watched as her eyes brimmed with emotion. He knew without doubt that he was already in love with her. He did not know how to adequately respond to her words and simply said:

"Will you walk down the street holding my hand? Will you come with me and smile at a little girl I know?"

Olivia's lids could no longer contain the tears and silvery pearls sneaked away from the edge of her eyes and meandered down her cheek.
"Yes please." She said as she fumbled in her bag for a tissue.

Harry paid the bill insisting that Olivia was his treasured guest and they walked out into the pale sunshine. Harry took her hand and they smiled as they walked along the street together.

"Do you really know a little girl?" Olivia said.

"I'll take you to see her... Just let me make a phone call."

Olivia looked into the display of a shop window as Harry made his call, turning she caught the last few words.

"OK Julia I'll see you in ten minutes."

He took Olivia's hand again and hailed a passing taxi.

"Trentham Gardens please." He said to the driver.

"So tell me about this girl you know." Olivia said.

"Well it's a long story... I don't want to bore you."

"I think there's very little danger of you doing that." Olivia said as she nudged herself closer to him in the intimate space of the taxi's rear seat.

"Well... I had this best mate named John; when we were younger we did everything together. As we grew up I was best man at his wedding, godfather to his daughter. He seemed set for a perfect life but out of nowhere he suffered a crippling bout of clinical depression. I had no idea how serious such an illness can be, it took long months of suffering before it ended tragically with him taking his own life. Shortly before he did, in one of his brighter moments, he asked me to look after his wife Julia and little Sophia if anything should happen to him. Of course I agreed not thinking anything about it knowing that he would soon be well again. So when the unthinkable happened I stood by Julia and her daughter as I had promised. Julia was left with nothing and I helped them as much as I could, you should perhaps know that I'm helping her financially until she can get back on her feet. As soon as Sophia starts school Julia will be able to resume her job and my support will no longer be needed."

"That's so kind of you to take on the responsibility."

"Any one would do the same. John and I were really close, like brothers really and I think of Julia as a sister; I simply had to help her and little Sophia. I have so much and they were left with nothing. John had life insurance but because of the manner of his death they have refused to settle the claim."

"Is there nothing that can be done about that?"

"I'm working on it... There is a case going through the courts at the moment but their legal department is wrapping everything up in reams of red tape... I'm still hopeful that Julia will eventually get something."

"I hope so... it seems so unfair."

The taxi drew up outside Julia's place and as they got out into the afternoon brightness Harry waved up to a face peering from one of the windows.

"Come on they're expecting us."

Olivia was admitted to a small but nicely cared for apartment. Harry and Julia hugged.

"This is Olivia." He said introducing the young woman who stood rather shyly at Harry's back.

"Hello Olivia, it's nice to meet you." The two women exchanged handshakes.

"You didn't tell me you had a new girlfriend Harry..."

"No it's a rather sudden development."

"Well you make a handsome couple." She turned her head watching her daughter who was crouched behind a chair anticipating a game of Peek-a-boo with Harry.

Olivia smiled at the child who's eyes were peeking out from her hiding place.

"Hello," she said "You must be Sophia."

"Say hello to the nice lady." Julia encouraged and Sophia crept out into the open her face beaming at the pretty young woman who had squatted down and held out her arms. Sophia was a naturally affectionate child, raised in love she knew only kindness and she ran to Olivia and embraced her.

"Wow what a delightful little girl." Olivia said. "I can see we are going to be good friends."

They stayed at Julia's place for about an hour and Olivia grew to understand how compassionate Harry was, how good he was with the delightful little Sophia who clearly adored him; "but then, who could not adore him?" she thought.

Harry took her hand again as they were leaving and Olivia felt a tremor of physical excitement course through her body. It was a feeling she had never know before, an urgent need for his closeness, to feel his sweet breath on her neck, to feel his hands on her body, a desperate desire for his powerful masculine intimacy.

Later, after declining her invitation to come up for tea, Harry left her standing outside her flat. As she watched him driving away in his taxi Olivia knew with complete certainty that she was in love.
 
 
 
 

Chapter 4

As the early days of autumn started to draw its russet canopy across Kingswood, Olivia began her university studies. Initially cautious she soon found that she was simply accepted as a girl, no one knew her from her previous life and anyone who might have been acquainted with the introverted Oliver would not recognise him as the attractive and more confident Olivia who learned to stride the university halls as carefree as any other girl. Her life had changed for the better and Harry's close supportive presence was a key factor in that. As Olivia settled into her new life so Harry prepared to settle into his. He had just one more week before he started his new job and took Olivia along one evening to see the house he was proposing to buy in the centre of Kingswood. It was a restored 18th century property, once a major home built for a member of the aristocracy, it had been divided into three smaller, but still substantial, dwellings and had a fully modernised interior but kept the original impressive facade. Olivia fell in love with the home, suggesting subtle improvements that Harry might consider. Olivia's approval of his choice seemed to be the spur that Harry needed to make an offer on the property.

They stood together on the stone balcony that looked out over the river and the winding cobbled streets below. In the gathering darkness the apartment's lights shimmered from the balcony; the river reflecting them, glimmering like diamonds in the dark water.

"It's such a lovely view from up here, I can't imagine a nicer place to live."

"I'm pleased it meets with your approval." Harry said as he rested his arm across Olivia's shoulder.

"Harry, we are getting close... don't you think?"

Harry smiled. "I think you could say that."

"No pressure but I really think you should let Jane know that it's over between you."

"Ah, yes point taken, I have been dragging the chain a little over that... the truth is I don't want to hurt her feelings, its not in my nature, but I can't really see a way to tell her how I feel without upsetting her. I think she's quite fragile emotionally."

"Mm... you could be right. Beneath her veneer of indifference I have seen moments when she seemed troubled. If she had let me get closer I might have discovered what lay hidden inside her. I might even have been a comfort to her. When did you last see her?"

"It's been over a week, the last time I had intended raising the subject but she was getting overly amorous and in the end I made my excuses and left in rather a hurry."

"Why not just ring her and say it's over, or even send her an unequivocal text message."

"Sending her a goodbye text sounds so easy but it's rather a callous way to end a relationship."

"Well, Jane has often dropped her boyfriends by text without turning a hair."

"Has she?"

"Once she has grown tired of someone, she can be quite dismissive."

"I think I can believe that... there can be something a little disquieting about her sometimes."

"You've noticed that too?" Olivia said.

"Yes the way she can drift off into her own thoughts..."

"I've always assumed that it's just how she is, even my mother told me that she struggled to get really close to her... Does Jane know that you are changing jobs and moving home?"

"For some reason, I felt a little unwilling to tell her that; I guess subconsciously I didn't want her to know where I was going. Perhaps I saw my moving as a way of putting space between us."

"So Harry my sweet, just send her a text... I'm sure you can phrase it in a way that will let her down gently."

"Yes Miss, I'll do it this evening..." he said with a smile, "which reminds me... the phone I've been using is supplied by my old firm, one of the very few perks of the job. I'll have to give it up in a few days, so remind me to give you and Julia my new number as soon as I get a replacement."

"If you think I'm a worthy recipient of your number." Olivia said with a soft laugh, maybe she was probing for reassurance that her relationship with Harry was still resting on a sound foundation.

"Oh I think you might be on the list... somewhere near the bottom." Harry said. Olivia poked him playfully in the ribs and Harry responded by leaning closer and kissing her cheek. Olivia took the kiss with a warm glow of pleasure but longed for him to kiss her lips and let her melt into his arms. She still held onto a nagging doubt that he did not quite see her as a woman. She looked into his smiling eyes and saw nothing to confirm her doubts but nothing to quite convince her that this dream she was living could really be true.

Jane read the text with a frown of confusion wrinkling her forehead. She read it again, certain that she had misunderstood it; how could Harry drop her? On the third and forth reading she was forced to accept that her hopes for a life with Harry seemed to be at an end. She took the news badly, more in anger than in sadness; her feelings confirmed by those quiet voices in the night that whispered softly of revenge.

Jane was a spurned woman and in her anger, the reality of her relationship with Harry was lost to an invented fantasy in which she saw herself as the victim of Harry's philandering nature. The more she fumed the angrier she got. She let her anger simmer for a few days and the dark anger drew power from Jane's enduring melancholia that had been an unwelcome companion since her childhood. Pushing the darkness down by force of will, she decided that, after all, she might give Harry one more chance; if he were to make a suitable apology for his misguided text message then she would probably forgive him.

She phoned his number and found to her astonishment that the number was not available. Her second call was to Fitch and Brompton at Hammerton. The receptionist told her that Harry Colville no longer worked for the practise and no she was not able to give Jane his new address as it breached the company's privacy policy.

"We'll see about that..." She muttered under her breath as she did an internet search of local private investigators. The man she settled on was chosen for his modest scale of fees rather than from any reliable recommendation; it was not a wise choice. Jake Boyd, despite the imaginative advertising he posted on his web page, was new the investigation business. He had followed a long list of unsuccessful enterprises, mostly in sales, until in the desperation of his early fifties he had stumbled upon the opportunity to take over a run down investigation business. He imagined himself restoring the business to its former glory; so far he had experienced limited success but Jake Boyd set about Jane's case with an enthusiasm that out-weighed his capability.

By now the purchase agreement for Harry's new home had been confirmed and Olivia, lecture time permitting, was quite willingly enlisted into helping him select furnishings for his new place. One weekend morning she arrived at Harry's home intent on helping him paint the Kitchen. He welcomed her with coffee and rolls and as they sat contemplating the task that lay ahead, Harry took her hand.

"I want to thank you for all the help you've been in setting up my new place... I've got you a little something just to express my gratitude."
He took a small package from the kitchen drawer and handed it to Olivia.

"Oh how sweet of you... there was really no need. I've helped you because I want to, I want to spend time with you, whether it's going out together or working together, all the time I spend with you is blissful."

She kissed the tips of her fingers and placed them on Harry's lips in a show of deep affection. Then let her fingers slide over the gift wrapping of the unexpected gift.

"You are allowed to open it..." He said. "I know you love poetry, especially the 19th century romantics."

"Oh its a book... how lovely." Olivia carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal the cover. It was a black book with a stylised rose bush embossed in gold. "It's Yeats... Oh my... The Secret Rose."

She opened the book and gasped. "Harry, this is a first edition: Lawrence & Bullen, 1897. It must have cost you a fortune."

"It was nothing compared to the delight your presence has already brought me." Harry said.

Olivia opened the book and read aloud a few words:

"The Secret Rose.
FAR-OFF, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
Men have named beauty."

A tear crept into Olivia's eye.

"Harry my darling, I will always treasure this... I must give you something in return, something precious to me..."

She delved into her handbag and drew out a small velvet bag. Inside was a silk rose, petals still virgin white despite its age.

"This was my mother's, it was taken from her wedding dress, she kept it with with her always. I guess I'm my mother's daughter, I'm as sentimentally romantic as she was. When they were killed I found it among her things and I have kept and treasured it just as she did."

"I can't take that Olivia... it's so personal to you."

"But don't you see? That's exactly why I want you to have it."

"You can't imagine how much this will mean to me Olivia, to keep something that means so much to you..."

Olivia smiled, Harry's words were a confirmation that she really had found a space in his heart.

"I offer it with love Harry, it's not worth any money but it is so precious."

"I'll treasure this always – protect it with my life."

"Then it's settled... " Olivia wiped her eyes and beamed a smile at Harry. "So, the painting; you promised me some overalls."
"You are one amazing woman Miss Fox."

"I know."

Olivia dressed in the overalls that Harry had found for her. Possibly two sizes too large she rolled up the sleeves and leg bottoms and did a little twirl for Harry who burst out laughing.

"What?"

"No nothing, you look perfect... honestly nothing at all like a circus clown."

They settled down to their task, the paint was in a shade pretentiously called 'arctic springtime' which if Olivia had not known better she might have called white. When the painting was finished and with both their faces daubed with splashes of arctic springtime, Harry poured them a both a glass of celebratory wine.

"Thanks for all your hard work today." He said as he drew Olivia closer to him. Olivia's heart started to pound as their lips drew closer. When the inevitable kiss came, it left Olivia tingling but desiring much more from the man she loved.

"Will you make love to me Harry... I've wanted it for so long, but I'm not experienced in this so please be gentle with me." She pulled him close again and closed her lips on his, felt the electric touch of his tongue as it gently caressed her own. "What ever you want to do to me Harry I'm yours... I don't know much about sex, especially for a girl like me bit I would love to feel you inside me."

"I would like that that too darling... I promise I will be gentle."

Olivia pulled herself from the oversized overalls and stood wide eyed, hair tousled her feet bare. Harry took her in his arms and gently slipped his hands under her T shirt, feeling the exquisite plumpness of her breasts he gasped with a desire that had been building since the day he had first seen her. He had been too cautious, he thought, in pressing Olivia for the intimacy he wanted and it was Olivia who finally made the approach and now took his hand, and led him across the darkening passage to his bedroom.

The room was untidy like a typical bachelor's room with yesterday’s discarded shirt still hanging half on a chair half on the floor; "the room needed a woman's eye, a woman's touch" Olivia thought.

Olivia drew him onto the soft comfort of Harry's half-made bed. "I want to undress for you so that you can see me naked... Harry... I'm terrified that my half woman half boy body might disgust you."

"Darling never think that, you could never never disgust me."

Slowly and shyly Olivia removed all her outer clothing, then the pretty underwear and finally released her boy parts from the tape that kept them concealed.

Harry gasped at her beauty. Her skin was blemish free, pink and soft. There was no trace of pubic hair and under her perfect breasts, slender waist and woman's hips, even her small boy parts had taken on a strangely feminine allure.

"My god Olivia... you are so so beautiful... I had no idea."
Harry held his arms out to her and with the evening light from the window slanting into the room casting shadows across their naked bodies, Olivia abandoned herself to intuition, letting her body take over. It was as if, for the first time in her life, her body was her own; no longer something alien, no longer a boy's body, now it seemed to be moving on its own drawing her inexorably towards a longed for yet still uncharted pleasure. Harry seemed clumsy and nervous at first as he fumbled with a tube of gel – Olivia felt it was his desire not to disappoint her that made him nervous and loved him all the more for his gentle reserve. She knew that this fragile intimate moment meant as much to him as it did to her and she softened into his sweet embrace coaxing and helping him.

"Tell me if I go too far," He said.

"You never could, you dear gentle man." Olivia whispered.

She adored the feeling of his weight pressing on her, the spontaneous arching of her back responding to the push of his hips as he so gently entered her, the easy rhythmic pressure bringing a blissful tension that Harry maintained until Olivia lost all sense of time, she felt an endless oneness, together in the universe with the man she had willingly given herself to. She gasped crying out in ecstasy as Harry finally brought her to a climax. The rush of intense pleasure, when it came jolted her, the feelings lasting long after Harry gasped at his own release then turned his face to her. For a moment all he could do was look into Olivia's eyes and then he wrapped her in his arms, as if driven by an intense, uncontrollable desire to show her that his love went far beyond the physical.

It thrilled her, the thought of what they had just done, way he could make her respond to him – the way she could make him respond to her. She kissed him on his lips and he gave her an exhausted smile, his body spent in love. If she had been uncertain before, now she knew without question that his love for her was as strong as her love for him and as the light faded into the pink of a hazy autumn sunset, they slept needing nothing but each other.

The private investigator had done some sniffing and with an eagerness supported by little more than his naivety, he reported back to Jane who was eager to hear what he had found. He came in person to her cottage, arriving in a rust-scarred eighties Ford Sierra but bearing some interesting news:

"Now then Miss Aston, my investigation has led me to draw some troubling conclusions. I'm afraid to have to tell you that Harry Colville is not the man you thought him to be."

"Tell me more."

"Well, all indications point to him being married to a young woman, they live together in a modest home in Trentham Gardens, a cheaper area to the north of Kingswood. They have a young daughter aged about three or so who the neighbours suggest he dotes on."
"A wife and daughter... my God."

"Yes... He has, as you suggested, recently changed employer and is now working for a firm of solicitors in Kingswood. I can supply their name if you require. I suspect, unknown to his wife, he has recently purchased a rather elegant property, in the heart of Kingswood by the river. The man clearly leads a double life stringing his wife along while also leading a high life that his wife knows nothing about. One might describe his river side residence as a 'love nest' so to say, where he entertains... and I use the word advisedly, a rather attractive blond woman. If I had to guess, from her appearance, I would say she was a fashion model or some such, however my observations have revealed that his mistress is in fact a student at the local university. When not with Mr Colville, this 'other woman' lives in a modest studio flat... no doubt also paid for by Mr Colville... Now then Miss I must say I find his behaviour towards his wife as extremely disreputable and if I may be allowed to offer an opinion, his rather tawdry lifestyle indicates that you may have had a lucky escape."

Jane turned pale at what she had heard she sank onto her sofa grappling with the implications. The darkness that she had struggled to suppress was suddenly released.

"How long has this affair been going on?"

"Now then, I suspect you wish to know if Mr Colville was seeing the young woman while he was also attempting to seduce you. I have to tell you that I think he probably was... men like him are insatiable in their needs."

"I am really shocked Mr Boyd, you are certain of your facts?"

"Miss Ashton, my dear, I have many years of experience, this is my specialist field. I believe that you can have complete confidence in what I tell you." He blinked hard, it was a failing that was likely to overcome him when he overstepped the truth.
"Well thank you for this information Mr. Boyd there can be no doubt that I seem to have been lucky not to have been drawn into Harry's adulterous web."

Jake Boyd watched as he saw Jane's face pale; she seemed to fall inside herself and spoke quietly with an almost unnerving quietness:
"I will take no pleasure in it but I must tell his poor credulous wife just how vile a man she has married."

"Yes... indeed so... If you must. Now Miss Ashton, try not to get too upset."

Jane looked up into Boyd's face as if startled back into the present by his words.

"Yes, yes of course." Jane said as a little composure came back to her.

"I feel that I should caution you to proceed carefully Miss Ashton, my experience tells me that such men can resort very easily to violence when confronted by the uncomfortable truth of their behaviour. I would hate to see an attractive young woman such as yourself come to any harm."
Jane looked coyly at Jake Boyd from under her fluttering eyelashes. "Is the man flirting with me?" she thought with a hint of interest, but then observing the shabbiness of his jacket, the red boozy nose, remembering the rusting Sierra, she rather quickly thought better of her inappropriate impulse.

"I understand what you are saying Mr Boyd, but trust me Harry Colville will not get away with his shocking behaviour... Do you have the wife's address?"

"Her name is Julia, I will email you her exact address and the address of Colville's love nest when I get back to the office."
"Thank you Mr Boyd, you will send me your account?"

"Well now then, as a matter of fact I have brought it with me... I could take a cheque now to save you the postage or I would be more than happy to take cash if you have it."

"I still do have a cheque book somewhere. I don't believe I've used it in years... you don't have the facility to accept a card payment?"
"I must admit to being behind the times in that respect but my secretary is in the process of setting up a system with my bank." Jake Boyd blinked hard once more.

Jane looked at Boyd's account, such was her mental state that the numbers swam before her eyes. The total due came to substantially more than she was expecting but she eventually found her cheque book and concluded her business with Mr Boyd who smiled affably as he tucked the cheque into the inside pocket of his ailing jacket.

The following morning Jane was still struggling to master her dismay; it was clear to her now that she must abandon all hope of forging a reconciliation with Harry. Her following morning at the dental surgery offered no respite, her mind was constantly churning, evolving from simmering anger to full blown outrage as the day progressed. Once home she immediately composed a note to be sent to Harry's wife telling her about his love nest and the mistress he took there.

Dear poor naive Julia,
You do not know me, but I have suffered the misfortune of being outrageously tricked by your husband into a relationship with him. I was the innocent party in this, believing your husband to be single. This relationship is now over but I feel I must let you know that he is currently having an ongoing affair with another attractive young woman. You may not know this but to entertain his mistress he has recently acquired an expensive property by the river in Kingswood while you are living in modest means with your young daughter. I have no wish to upset you but feel that you could not be so unworldly as to be unaware of your husband's infidelities. Men are so weak in matters of the flesh and the wife is often to blame in withholding her matrimonial duties. I advise you to look to yourself to correct your husbands most shameful behaviour.
Yours in sadness,
A well wisher.

A couple of days later Harry took a call from Julia, she was clearly upset. Her beloved husband was dead and yet now someone was making vile suggestions about him.

"Julia this has to be a mistake, try not to get upset. I'll come over and talk with you this evening... I'll bring some takeaway food... is it OK if I bring Olivia, she has a sympathetic ear and she may help bring a little calm perspective. In any case I know she would love to see you and Sophia again."

"Yes please come Harry and bring Olivia, having another woman's perspective is just what I need... I'm sure I'm just being silly, but loosing John is still a very raw emotion for me."

"I can totally understand that Julia, we'll see you in a while... just hold on to the certain fact that John loved you with all his heart... even in the depth of his illness."

It was just starting to grow dark when Harry and Olivia arrived at Julia's place. The earlier rain had faded to a fine sticky drizzle and the street light cast a shimmering yellow reflection across the damp street. Harry took Olivia's hand and guided her under the shelter of their shared umbrella as they walked towards the entrance. As Julia opened her door she got a long hug from Olivia and then another from Harry.
"Something smells good." Julia said pretending a level of composure that was not really there.

"It's Chinese... Sesame chicken with bok choy; shall we eat first while it's still hot?" Olivia said as she sat and lifted Sophia onto her knee for a cuddle.

"Yes... that would be good... in fact guys I've thought things over and... well I think I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill... I don't really believe that the letter could be about John, he simply would never have betrayed me and Sophia... I guess I'd just needed some reassurance."

"Well I can absolutely guarantee that John never cheated on you, we knew things about each other from our student days that would make us all blush and if he did have another woman on the go I would have been the first to know."

Julia smiled, her fingertips brushed the back of Harry's hand in affection.

"I'm lucky to have you as a friend Harry... You and Olivia." The two women hugged again and then set about demolishing the takeaway.
Once the meal was over Julia brought out the handwritten note and lay it on the coffee table. Harry took it and read the few words.
"These are the words of a spurned woman, she's not interested in helping anyone, this is just an attempt at some thinly disguised malicious revenge. The pity is she has sent it to you by mistake."

"Let me see." Olivia said.

Her eyes scanned the words and as Harry watched, her face turned pale.

"What is it?" He said.

"I recognise the handwriting..."

"What?"

"It's Jane's hand writing... I would recognise it anywhere."

 
 
 
 
 
Chapter 5

Once the raw angry emotion had died down, all three decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore Jane's letter. Julia had no understanding of the motive that lay lay behind it and just wanted to forget the whole unfortunate incident, happy with Harry's assurance that it had nothing to do with her or John. Harry and Olivia could easily guess what lay behind Jane's confusion: Clearly Harry had been somehow mistaken for Julia's husband and Olivia was taken to be his mistress. Olivia had never thought of herself as a mistress but it was a far less unpleasant slur than the ones she had suffered in a different life when she had been known as Oliver. Olivia knew that she should contact Jane, maybe go and see her. Let her meet Olivia the woman she had become. Maybe Jane would finally understand and they could become friends. At least she could clear up her confusion about Harry.

Olivia knew she should do this and yet she hesitated, there was that cool reserve about Jane that had prevented them from getting close when they had shared her cottage. Beyond this, Olivia was still too fragile in her female identity to risk an unpleasant scene with her aunt. Maybe in a few days, she thought. But the few days became a few weeks. Nothing more was heard from Jane, no follow up letters, so the moment passed without Olivia taking any action. It still troubled her however that her aunt could be so vindictive as to write such a hurtful letter but also Olivia could not help the feeling that she was partly to blame for it for not being more open with Jane.

As autumn drew on, the chestnut leaves were already beginning to turn and fall, floating dryly down through the silence of the cool air. A sweet humid smell of autumn rose damply and filled the air. It was in this mellow season that Olivia celebrated her birthday. Harry took her to a candle-lit dinner at an expensive restaurant. It was a happy time for them as they celebrated their love.

Still shrouded in her unremitting anger, Jane found no pleasure in the mellowing change of season. Oliver's birthday had passed without her noticing; he seemed to have been lost to a forgotten interlude in her life. Perhaps not deliberately, but a veil had be drawn over their brief life together. Jane was too wrapped in her own obsession which continued to fester. Her desire for some sort of revenge on Harry was becoming a neurosis, gnawing at her sanity. She was simply unable to let her anger at Harry go and it was slowly but inevitably tipping her fragile mental equilibrium towards a dangerous place... toward a crisis.

By now Harry had settled comfortably into his new home; he found it perfect with one noticeable exception – the lack of someone to share it with. He had said nothing to Olivia but in his dreams he knew that she belonged there with him. Asking her to move in with him was a big step for both of them; the joy it promised was beyond measure... but the risk of rejection, however slight, had stayed Harry's hand until now. Tonight he had committed himself to asking her. He stood on the balcony tingling with an unfamiliar nervousness, watching eagerly for Olivia's arrival. A cool breeze fell on his shoulders and he felt a shiver run down his spine; it may just have been the damp air but it felt different more like a warning, some form of premonition. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come and was soon forgotten as he rehearsed the words he would use to invite her to fully share his life. – Would she even consent to becoming his wife?

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the autumn evenings chilled quickly and brought steaming breath and a rising mist that hung low on the river. The evening air was filled with the damp autumn scent of sweet decay. Harry checked his watch, Olivia was not late yet, not quite. The theatre tickets were in his inside jacket pocket and he felt for them, a nervous reassurance that they were still there.
As Harry watched for Olivia so another set of eyes silently watched Harry.
They saw and understood his nervous anticipation. The figure, like a gargoyle, crouched in the shadows on the stone stairway, watched and waited with hidden malevolent eyes peering from the hood of a dark sweatshirt.

Olivia could be heard before she was seen, veiled by the mist the sound of her heels on the stone cobbles came from the street below Harry's balcony. He knew instantly who it was, he could already recognise the cadence, the inflection of her step. Undoubtedly a woman's step, undoubtedly a specific woman. He strained to see her and so did the other watcher.

Jane saw Olivia before Harry did, her vantage point on the stone stair was closer than Harry's and she saw the approach of his mistress with a feeling of contempt. The woman was tall and elegant just as Jake Boyd had described. As she came into view Jane realised that she was even more attractive than she had imagined. A woman too beautiful, too self assured for her to compete with. But Jane knew that she had more to offer Harry than this bimbo did... Harry deserved better but it was too late now; he had missed his chance.

Emerging from the swirl of mist, the woman's elegance, her apparent easy confidence infuriated Jane. Jane watched as Harry waved to his mistress, imagined the dwell of eye contact that would draw them together. "It should be me coming to see Harry not this other woman." Jane thought. Olivia stopped for a moment and looked up to the balcony. Jane saw her natural elegance, her balanced poise. She saw the woman's smile that rested on Harry, the long glance of affection. Jane immediately saw how this woman had so easily, with her tall stilettos and stockinged legs, replaced her in Harry's affection. It would mean nothing to this woman with her god-given beauty to lead Harry away and make him her plaything. Jane saw the inevitability of it all; even as a teenager she had always been the plain girl, the one to accompany her attractive friends. She knew what would happen even back then, she would be overlooked as her attractive friend would slide under the arm of the handsome boy as if some natural order of the universe would be violated otherwise. Now it had happened again but as a grown woman, she would no longer stand idly and submit to the indignity.

Jane watched closely as the woman waved and called up to Harry.

"Not late am I?"

"No we still have time." There was a little amused half laugh in Harry's voice that infuriated Jane as she clung to the shadows.

Olivia started up the stairs again, her feet moving faster as if driven by some happy anticipation. What Olivia felt was simply the pleasure of being accepted as a woman by Harry. When she was with him it was as if a whole new universe had opened up for her. A universe where she had flourished and had so easily found love. As Olivia came closer, Jane drew back into the shadows listening to the clack of heels on the stone stairs. She could smell her perfume now as it drifted, haunting the air with its drowsy fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood. Jane could see the light from Harry's balcony window as it caressed the woman's long golden hair. Olivia turned her face and ran her fingers through her curls as the breeze lifted the delicate strands in the gentle night air. Something, a last flicker of her reason, told Jane to walk away, to draw back into the darkness and go home but she had gone too far now; there was to be no turning back. The weight of the knife in her shoulder bag seemed oppressive; she could feel its ominous call, hear it's whispered promise of revenge. It was only a kitchen paring knife but it was long enough and quite sharp enough; Jane had made sure of that. It's presence in her bag was no accident it was the culmination of a deliberate and yet irrational sequence of events that had finally drawn her here on this night.

Just a day ago Jane had been preparing her supper, slicing through a thick piece of bloody steak when the knife slipped and the mound of flesh by her thumb was cut. She watched transfixed as the blood dripped across the steak, blood onto blood and she imagined Harry's face, saw the knife twisting in his chest. The pain from the cut intensified the illusion until the scene became palpable, became an inevitability...
Now here she was, the heft of the kitchen knife was pulling her, tipping her beyond the edge of reason. The future was as inescapable as the easy power that Harry's mistress wielded over him. But Jane knew that Harry was not innocent in this, he was a man of the world, he should have sent the young woman away and returned to her, to Jane... It was Harry who would have to pay the price of his infidelity.

Jane's white fingers slipped into her bag and found the coldness of the knife's metal handle. It was waiting there whispering its seductive call as her fingers closed round it. She drew it out and as the blade was exposed to the night air, there was a momentary flash of reflected light against the honed steel. Jane quickly slipped it into the folds of her jacket, invisible again; such a small thing, prosaic, utilitarian yet its potential edged beyond the mundane into the world of insanity. The knife seemed to possess her with its unnatural weight, pressing down on her like a curse on her soul, turning her into an assassin.

Jane stood for a moment feeling the night close round her like a dark cloak. The mist was starting to lift and the thin crescent moon was reflected like a manic smile on the river. Even now she might have have turned away... The river's scent filled her nostrils while in the river's flow she could sense the shifting presence of the distant sea. She could almost see the dark serpentine monsters of myth that lay in the deep black salt water waiting for the innocents to venture too close – Jane shuddered.
Harry had moved from his balcony and was now on the stair watching his date approach. What would they be doing tonight? Jane wondered. She watched as the young woman took his arm and heard the stillness shatter by her carefree laughter that hung in the air like her frozen breath. Her long silk scarf trailed and lifted behind her as the pair turned and climbed back to the comforting warmth of Harry's home.
"Somewhere beyond that door is a room is waiting for them to quench their carnal desires." Jane thought. She felt a pang of envy as she watched their easy familiarity, understood what they would do together in the darkness. Jane stood immobile, a bitter silhouette carved from the bleakness. The night fell silent again and Jane edged her way up the cold stone steps following the two lovers. Here she stood, moments away from her revenge. There was a flutter of black wings as a pair rooks lifted from their perch into the air, They startled her, made her heart pound in her chest, but Jane was not distracted from her insane mission. She knew with the full certainty of a madwoman what she must do...

"I thought we might have a quick glass of wine before we set off... there should be time." Harry said.

"That sounds lovely... just a very small one for me."

"Red or white?"

"Mm... red I think, have you any of that Australian Shiraz left?"

"Yes I think so...It was rather good, I think I'll join you."

They moved together to the balcony, clinking their glasses and looked out across the Kingswood skyline.

"How was your day?" Harry asked.

"Well I had a lovely run this morning just as first light was breaking over the trees in the park. The dawn view across the park with little pockets of mist looked magical... I should have taken a photo. Then back to tedium... lectures as usual... I had a tutorial today which was surprisingly quite helpful... I have a paper to finish over the weekend."

"I'm glad my student days are over." Harry said.

"It's not so bad... but I have to say that looking forward to the theatre tonight was the best part of my day."

"Mine too... I did call in to see Julia at lunchtime, just a flying visit... We're invited to dinner on Sunday, I hope you'll be free because I've already accepted on your behalf."

"Have you?.. actually I think it's rather nice to be taken for granted... like a married couple." She added in a softness intended for Harry to not quite hear. "I should have finished my work by then and I would really love to see Julia and little Sophia again... you know I think over the past few weeks Julia has become the best friend I've ever had."

"What better than me?"

"Oh you're on my list of favourites... somewhere near the bottom." She laughed.

"Touché." Harry said and then turned his head as he heard a scrabbling sound outside his porched entrance.

"Sounds as if someone's out there." He said and with an intuitive need to be protective of Olivia told her to: "Wait here... It's probably nothing."
As he opened the latch the door burst open with a sudden violence that took Harry by surprise. He stepped back loosing his balance and stumbled.

"What is it?" Olivia called as she rushed out into the entrance hall. Before Harry could reply a flash of silver steel stabbed into Harry's chest and he fell heavily onto the ground.

Olivia instantly recognised her aunt Jane.

"Jane... what in God's name have you done." Her words seemed to freeze Jane and she looked up from the bleeding shape that lay contorted at her feet until she could see, face to face, the woman who had stolen her man from her.

"How do you know my name?" Jane spat as she advanced on the woman, the knife swiping left and right in violent arcs as if she were slicing the air to get to her.

"It's me aunt Jane... It's..." The almost forgotten name stuck in her throat. "it's me... Oliver... don't you know me?"

"Oliver?..." Jane was seized by a flux of emotions, she could barely understand what she was hearing. "You are Oliver... my nephew... It can't be true?"

"Yes, it's me... We need to help Harry... call for an ambulance."

Jane stumbled back as Olivia knelt down by Harry, pressing her hands against the wound in his chest trying to staunch the flow of blood. Harry was deathly white, a sheen of sweat lay cross his face and his breath came in short sharp gasps.

"What in God's name have you done Jane?"

Olivia lifted her eyes to her aunt. Jane could see Olivia's tears and the rising anger.

"Yes... my God I see it's you now Oliver... what have you done to yourself?... So... what?... you mean you are gay?"

"I'm not fucking gay you mad woman." Olivia screamed as her trembling fingers tried in desperation to hold back Harry's escaping blood. " If you had shown the slightest interest in me then I may have shared who I was with you by now."

"What are you then?"

"I'm a transgender woman."

Jane staggered back.

"You're a freak.... it was a freak who took my Harry away from me... Thank God my sister didn't live to see this, it would have broken her heart" Jane's eyes were wide, the whites showing as they flicked across the room. A strange twisted expression settled on her face as her troubled mind struggled with this new information.

"My mother knew all about my condition; she loved me, of course she knew. It was my mother and father who found me a kind doctor to help me become who I was born to be."

"No you're lying you freak..."

Jane continued to back away, she found herself against the glass door that opened onto the balcony.

"You should have told me about this perversion Oliver... Maybe I could have saved you."

"You have just stabbed Harry in his chest and you have the temerity to call me a freak?... If anyone in this room is a freak, it's you."

Olivia ran across to her where she had dropped her bag and found her phone.

"I've saved you from this man Oliver... you don't know who he is... he has a wife and child."

"No no no..." Olivia screamed as she knelt again at Harry's side, the blood seeping past the pressure of her fingers. "We both read your vile letter to Julia... Julia was the wife of Harry's best friend... When the poor man died Harry stepped up to help her... She was left with nothing. Harry is the kindest, most compassionate, the most moral man I have ever met."

"No that's not possible." Jane said her agitated mind no longer had the will to hold the knife and it fell tumbling from her hand and came to rest at Olivia's side. Olivia snatched it up and turned her face to Jane.

"No don't hurt me Oliver..."

"Get out of my sight Jane." Olivia screamed and turned back to Harry with a soft voice. "Don't leave me darling... I'll get help."

Olivia sobbed as she scrabbled with her phone dialling the emergency number while still holding the knife. She looked up to Jane and thought she saw a momentary flash of compassion, of sanity.

"Help me Jane, we need to stop the blood... I can see that I brought you to this act of madness... this is all my fault I see that now. I should have spoken to you before, and cleared up your misunderstanding. Jane help me... please."

Her attention was drawn back to her phone as the call was answered.

"Which service to you require?"

"Ambulance... please hurry a man's been stabbed... I think he's dying, there's blood everywhere please hurry... it's all my fault, my fault, I'm so sorry."

"Help is on the way Miss." The disembodied voice said into her ear.

"Please hurry..."

Jane lurched back suddenly understanding what she had done, what she had become. As her weight fell against the balcony door it burst open and Jane found herself in the cold night air. The freshness was sobering, chilling as she backed up against the chiselled stone railing away from the sight of the blood. When she tipped over there was no scream, no sound not until her body hit the glistening cobbled street below and crumpled in its own pool of scarlet. The moon watched Jane's watery eyes as they stared up into the sky. They were still open but saw nothing.

The blood dripped, Harry's eyes were closed now, the effort to hold them open beyond him. He seemed peaceful as Olivia lay her cheek against his, wetting his face with her tears. She pressed with her fingers but the blood still oozed as Olivia watched Harry's life flow away pooling red and glistening on the tiled floor.

In the stillness a lone dog barked somewhere across the city. It was an angry harsh sound that hung in the stillness until a siren echoed across the chill night air. Finally the flash of a blue light bounced on the wet cobbles. The blood still oozed through Olivia's fingers.
 
 
 
 

Chapter 6

The police arrived first, with the ambulance men close on their heels.

Olivia was still clutching the knife when the policeman crouched down at her side. He could see that she was no threat. Apparently the deed done she had collapsed into sobbing remorse. He pulled on rubber gloves and took the bloody knife from Olivia's fingers.

"I think I'd better take that." He said as he dropped the knife into an evidence bag. "Can you tell me anything about the dead woman under the balcony?"

"What?"

He could see that the woman was in no fit state to answer questions.

"Never mind, Miss." The man looked up to his colleague, a women police officer. "Take her out to the car Tamsin, she's in shock. They'll interview her back at the station, when she's had time to gather herself."

"OK... she doesn't look much like a murderer to me."

"Looks can be deceptive lass, you'll learn that when you get to my age."

The police woman pulled Olivia away from Harry as the ambulance team started to assess the situation.

"He's bleeding out, we need a line and fluids... this looks bad."

The last words that Olivia heard as she was led out down onto the street sent a cold numbness through her body:

"Call ahead to the hospital for a crash team... there's only a faint hope he's going to make it."

As they reached the ground floor Olivia could see where Jane's body had already been screened off. A group of detectives were making observations, a photographer was busy with his camera – just another day at the office.

"So a domestic dispute?" The policewoman said. "Or something more sinister?"

"I don't know... where are you taking me?"

"Well you'll be held in the cells until you are interviewed. It's pretty certain that you'll be charged with the stabbing."

"Charged...why?"

"Well, you can't go round stabbing people and expect not to end up in prison."

"But it wasn't me who did the stabbing."

"We've got your recorded confession from the emergency call you made."

"No... I think I said it was my fault... not that I had done the stabbing."

Olivia was now in a panic. Prison for a person like her would have been intolerable, she assumed they would hold her in a male facility once they discovered her genetic gender. The thought of all the indignities she would be subjected too suddenly overwhelmed her. The police woman released her grip on Olivia's arm for just an instant as she pulled her handcuffs from her belt.

"I thought you were accepting your guilt and were coming quietly. Just to be safe I'd better secure you until we get to the station."

"No... I'm totally innocent of the stabbing..."

"There's also the matter of the woman's death... now don't make things worse for yourself than they already are Miss."

Olivia suddenly saw how all this was going to play out. If... when... poor Harry died she would be the only suspect. She had been leaning over Harry clutching the knife when the police arrived. Olivia could only see a long sentence ahead of her, she had no way of proving her innocence and life in prison for her would be unbearable. It may not have been the wisest decision but driven by fear, Olivia pulled free of the police woman, pushed her away and ran.

She cast off her heels and ran barefoot across the cobbles and then over the wooden foot bridge that spanned the river. This was where she ran in the mornings and Olivia knew the area well. Along the tow path there was access to the park and following her across the thickly wooded area would be difficult for someone unfamiliar with the winding paths. She would eventually be able to cut across the narrow backstreets and get back to her studio flat. The policewoman had been overbalanced by Olivia's push and she tripped backwards ending up on the floor.

"Shit, shit... Come back this will not help you at all." She called as she headed off after the fleeing figure that was disappearing into the gloom.
"Assistance required..." She called into her radio. "The suspect, a woman early twenties in evening dress, is on foot heading towards the Blackwater Bridge on Cunliffe Street heading west. I'm in pursuit..."

As Olivia reached the park she could hear the heavy footfall of the policewoman as she crossed the bridge. She could also hear the siren of a car driving along Cunliffe Street at speed, the snarl of its revving engine and squealing tyres echoing from the river-side buildings. Olivia was gasping for air running faster than she ever had before. Her face was smeared with tears and blood as she ran across the night like a terrified animal hunted by a pack of hounds. Her chaser's footsteps seemed to be falling away as Olivia reached the winding path that crossed the area wooded with oak and ash, she was navigating by memory rather than sight. The path was softened by the carpet of leaves but the slipperiness caused Olivia to lose her footing as she turned a tight corner. She fell sprawling forward and rolled into a clearing. There were cuts on her arm from the fall and she stood unsteadily for a moment gathering her composure.

The car's siren told her that the driver had passed beyond where she intended crossing the road. If she could get to her flat across the back alley she would be safe at least for a while. They did not have her name and she assumed it would take a while to trace her from her phone which was still at Harry's home. The sudden thought of Harry made her gasp and sob, sinking to her knees she could not believe what had happened. It was supposed to have been a lovely night at the theatre and it had turned into a nightmare. In the distance she could hear the sound of the policewoman crashing through the undergrowth. It sounded as if she had gone the wrong way so Olivia started running again.
Car horns blared as Olivia avoided the traffic by the skin of her teeth as she crossed the road and made it to the secluded alleys. Covered by the darkness she finally made it to her flat. The spare door key was concealed in a cavity under a loose brick and Olivia let herself in. As the door closed behind her Olivia sank to her knees, her mind a frenzy of thoughts until a plan coalesced from the confusion. She took a quick shower, cleaned up her cuts and threw a few clothes, her bank card and some essentials into a bag. She dressed warmly in her student clothes and as calmly as possible ordered a minicab to take her to the station. She walked unsteadily down the stairs then remembered something precious and ran back up. On her bedside table nestled under her delicate stained glass Tiffany lamp was the copy of 'The Secret Rose' that Harry had bought for her. She took it in her trembling fingers and closing her eyes, lay her lips softly on the cover before sliding it into her bag.

She would go to Scotland, find some space and decide what to do. As a child her parents had taken her to stay at a small hotel that sat overlooking the loch at the village of Rannochbrae. Her childhood memories of the place were happy and it seemed a safe place to for her to consider what she was going to do. Olivia has evaded arrest and now she needed time. Time to mourn for Harry, time to try and understand what had driven Jane to her murderous act. Olivia had watched her fall from the balcony and even now she could not be sure if it was an accident or if in her despair she had meant to do it. Despite her anger towards her aunt, Jane was her dear mother's sister, she could not know that she died in such a way without feeling sadness for her – without in some way sharing the guilt of Jane's actions... if only she had talked to Jane maybe none of this would have happened.

Olivia took a train to Nottingham. Not because it was a place she knew but because it was a place she had never visited and the police would have no reason to look for her there. Close to the station in a rather run down area she took a room for the night in a small hotel. She had noticed a small cafe, 'a greasy spoon' called 'Spike's Place'. Although it was late she noticed it was still open and despite having little appetite, decided to get something to eat. Outside on the street there were a huddle of sex workers plying their trade. Some, she could tell were transgender like her and Olivia felt a solidarity with them and was strangely comforted by that. She smiled at one of the girls, she was not dressed for the weather, but rather to display her 'wares'. She looked cold and undernourished. As their eyes met she shyly returned Olivia's quiet smile.

"Would you like a coffee or something?" Olivia asked.

"I don't go with girls..." She replied.

"No I'm not looking for... Just coffee is all..."

"So what do you want?"

"I want nothing from you... you just look so cold... are you hungry?"

"Maybe... I guess you look genuine... I'm freezing my tits off out here."

They entered Spikes Place together and sat.

"So, you want something to eat? I'm going to have some eggs and toast."

"Yeah OK, you're a kind person I can see that... some toast would be nice."

Olivia went to the counter and placed her order.

"Make it extra eggs for the girl." She said.

"Coming up."

The man at the counter looked tough, not a man to get on the wrong side side of. He had a couple of day's stubble on his cheeks, a sinuous snake tattoo ran down his arm but Olivia thought he had kindly eyes.

"You're open late." Olivia said trying to distract herself from her own troubles.

"I like to stay open... you know for the girls... this is a safe place if they need one."

Olivia smiled at the man, he was certainly a rough and ready sort but the decent humanity flowed from him like a ray of sunshine.
Olivia sat down.

"I'm Olivia, what's your name?"

"I go by Chantelle."

"That's a pretty name."

"Thanks."

When the food came Chantelle ate greedily as if she hadn't eaten in a while, Olivia found her appetite was not strong and she let Chantelle finish her eggs
.
"Thanks for that Olivia, you're a good person, I guess a woman like you don't really know what it's like to be a girl like me but your kindness means more than I can say..." She looked towards the door and the dark unwelcoming streets that lay beyond the safety of Spike's Place. "I'd better get back."

A tear formed in the corner of Olivia's eye.

"Stay safe Chantelle." She said as she watched the girl's sad smile before she turned and left.

The man came over to her table.

"Anything else... more coffee?"

"Coffee, is that what you call it?... go on then another cup." Olivia said with a forced smile.

When he returned with the coffee he sat at the table facing her.

"They call me Spike." He said. "So what is it you want with the girls?"

"Nothing, I just felt sympathy for Chantelle standing out in the cold."

"You're not a journalist looking for a sleazy tabloid story?"

"Do I look like a journalist?"

"You could be..."

"Well I'm just a student passing through... you seem to be protective of the girls."

"Yeah, well I had this kid brother... Billy, he changed his name to Sharon. I guess he was my little sister really. Our dad threw him out when he was just sixteen and Sharon ended up on the streets... Things didn't end well for him... for her."

"I'm sorry."

"They fished her out of the Trent, raped and covered in bruises... that was ten years... twelve years ago now. So I do what I can for the girls, keep an eye on them; especially the trans girls like Chantelle... she's a sweet kid."

"I could see that Spike."

Olivia drank her coffee, her eyes had been opened and despite everything that had happened in the last few hours, she felt almost lucky... at least she had found love and acceptance, even if it had been fleeting. Olivia stood and pulled her jacket tightly round her.

"You're a diamond Spike... It's been an honour to have met you."

"Takes one to know one," he said. "be lucky girl... and just give thanks that you were born in the right body."

Olivia almost told him the truth but just smiled.

When she got outside Chantelle was nowhere to be seen, "maybe she had been picked up by a client", Olivia thought "I hope he'll be gentle with her."

Olivia felt sadness that the girls were forced by their circumstances to earn a living in that way. It was not a life she could understand nor want but in a few short hours Olivia's own life had gone from idyllic, with a bright future and hopes that Harry might finally invite her to move in with him to a sudden life of desperation where a life in prison or a life selling her body now seemed just as likely as any other.

In the morning Olivia slept through much of the long journey north. Suddenly startled into wakefulness by a strange urgent feeling of panic she blinked her eyes at the daylight that streamed though the carriage window. She could not explain the feeling, some kind of sixth sense but at that moment she felt with horrifying certainty that Harry had just died. She checked her watch it was 10:36 and the tears of desolation fell across her cheeks.

When Olivia finally arrived in Rannochbrae, it was already deep into the afternoon. On the long journey north she managed to pull together the strands of her composure together and had formulated a plan to become a boy again – to pretend to be a boy again, if only as a temporary measure until she could find a way forward. Although it went against everything she had strived for, to revert to being a boy made a perverse sense to her. The police were looking for a woman, as far as she knew no one in her new life was aware of her background so presenting as male again would give her some anonymity, some time to consider what she should do.

Although it drew her to the edge of tears, Olivia had her hair cut short... crew-cut short. She bought some men's jeans and a baggy sweater and changed in the public toilets before walking the familiar streets of Rannochbrae where nothing seemed to have changed since she was there as a child. Finally Olivia found herself entering the hotel that she had stayed in with her parents all those years ago.
She stood at the reception hoping they would have a room. The owner, a middle aged woman that Olivia recognised as Mrs McEwen, finally appeared. She seemed unchanged from a decade earlier but did not seem to recognise Oliver's features in her face.

"Hello, I was hoping you might have a room for a week or so."

"That will be no trouble at all... at this time of year we usually have vacancies. At the moment we only have one other family staying. Are you up for a holiday?"

"Sort of, I just need to get away for a while... I'm not sure how long..."

"Oh that's not a problem at all dear. If you don't mind me saying... you do look a little troubled Miss. Now, not to pry but let me guess is it boyfriend troubles?"

Olivia nodded.
"That's very astute of you." She could think of nothing more to say such was her shock at being called 'Miss' despite having her hair shorn and dressed as she was. It was clear now that the feminising effects of her treatment meant that, despite her own still fragile self-image, she was completely unable to pass as a boy any more. Only hours ago this revelation would have brought her joy but from the darkness of her present situation, Olivia could not imagine feeling joy or anything like it ever again.

"I thought so, well my dear you are very pretty and any sensible lad would be happy to have you on his arm. Now if you'll sign the register..."
There was no longer any point in signing in as Oliver or Jack or Bill so she put her own name but the address she carefully wrote in her neat hand, was a work of fiction.

"If I may say so... Olivia," Mrs McEwen said reading her name "I love your short hair; it gives you a rather vulnerable prettiness... like a pixie queen."

Olivia couldn't help the little laugh. A pixie queen was hardly the look she was going for. Maybe, she thought, a life could eventually be salvaged from this tragedy if she could find more kind people like Mrs McEwen and Spike to buffer the hardships.

Olivia dressed as a girl again, what else could she do? She bought a pink woollen bobble hat to keep her shorn head warm and spent the next days walking the moors and native woodlands, following the tracks that clung to the edge of the loch, disappearing into the mist and finding a glimmer of hope in her solitude. If the weather was fine, she would take 'The Secret Rose' and transport herself to where she could catch glimpses of a happy place by dipping into the poems. She might find a sheltered sunny spot and watch the fishing ospreys flirting with the air currents while the constant sound of the loch waters lapped on the shore.

Olivia made friends with Terry and Alice Spencer and their nine year old son Billy whom she shared the small hotel with; as the only guests, they would often eat together in the evenings. Billy seemed drawn to Olivia and his parents were happy to let him tag along when she went on one of her walks. It delighted her to hear him call her 'aunt Olivia' and felt undoubtedly maternal feelings of protectiveness towards him as he quietly snuggled up to her and snoozed at her side in the late afternoon sun. She learned that Billy had told his mother that 'aunt Olivia was very pretty but very sad'. When Alice told Olivia this she was a little shocked as she had tried hard to hide her troubles from the family and especially from Billy.

"If there is something you'd like to talk about... I'm a good listener." Alice said as they sat together by a crackling open fire one evening.

"It's kind of you Alice... I have something to face in the near future and I'm building up my fortitude to be able to deal with it. Just at the moment I'm enjoying the peace that I find on the moors... In fact I'm finding some quiet contentment up here away from it all in Rannochbrae."

"It's good to hear that but if there's anything I can do Olivia, just ask; you've been so kind putting up with Billy."

"I'm very fond of him, it's a pleasure to have him around; he's a very bright little boy."

Nothing more needed to be said and the two women, each lost in their own thoughts, watched the dance of the flames licking round the glowing logs as their eyes grew heavy.

It was almost two weeks since the attack on Harry; Olivia and Billy were sitting by the loch after taking a long walk around the winding rocky track.

"Mum says she thinks you have boyfriend trouble." He said with the unselfconscious candour of a nine year old.

"Oh does she?"

"She says you should talk to him... you can use my phone if you want to call him." He offered her his mobile.

Olivia smiled... if only she could. There was no one left to talk to... Except maybe Emma and her mother... or of course Julia. Olivia had no phone but she did have Julia's number. Olivia kept a written note of names, addresses, email numbers and phone numbers of all the significant people in her life. She wrote them in a small red notebook which was in her bag. It had been what her mother had done and was a habit she had copied.

"So OK maybe there is someone I might like to call... may I borrow your phone then Billy?... I'll buy you an ice-cream when we get back to Rannochbrae."

Billy smiled as he handed her his phone...

"Julia it's me Olivia..."

"Where have you been Olivia? We've all been so worried. Harry's been going out of his mind."

"Harry... Oh... is he alright?"

"He's been out of hospital for a week now... It was touch and go for a while, he lost so much blood that they had to resuscitate him on the Saturday morning after the stabbing."

"On Saturday..." Olivia's mind ran back to the Saturday morning when she had taken the train up to Scotland. "I don't suppose you know what time on Saturday?"

"I'm not exactly sure about mid morning I think... why?"

"I had a strange premonition... I guess it's not important."

"Listen Olivia, Harry has explained everything to the police... they would like to talk to you, take a statement, but the police are now confident that you had nothing to do with the stabbing or Jane's death... In fact they have been concerned about your safety. They apologised to Harry for scaring you into running off."

"This is the best news I could have hoped for... I'm so relieved Julia; I was certain that Harry had died. I thought that I was the only suspect, I could see nothing in my future but a life in prison."

"You poor darling... Look where are you?"

"I came up to Scotland to a little place my family used to stay at when I was little."

"Scotland... I was going to offer to come and find you."

"No don't even think of that Julia, I'll get the next train back."

"OK darling... Harry's recuperating at a his second cousin's country home. It sound grander than it actually is but its a peaceful place where he can find some quiet country air to get his strength back... What he really needs to make a full recovery is you back at his side."

"Does he?"

"You know he does, anyone can see that you two were born to be together... no point in fighting against fate."

"There's nothing to keep me away now Julia... do you have the address of his second cousin?"

"I sure do... hold on..."

"Julia will you do me a favour... I'd like to surprise Harry, will you hold off telling him I'm coming."

"OK Poppet but I'll be bursting until you get there."

"Love you Julia."

"Me too... Oh and Sophia sends her love."

"Give her a kiss from me."

It was late evening and Harry was sitting in a wheelchair watching the last filtered rays of the sun as it sank behind the hills. He was dressed for the autumn air and had a blanket across his knees. His thoughts, as they had for the past weeks, were never far from Olivia. She was the only woman he had ever really loved, possibly the only woman he could ever really love. He felt in his pocket for the one thing of hers that he still had. It was soft in his fingers as drew out the silk rose that Olivia had given him. He held it delicately unless it should fall to pieces in his fingers. As he held it he could still smell the last fugitive trace of her perfume on the rose.

Olivia had the right address she was certain of that, though she seemed somehow to have found her way to the long slope of the back garden. Surrounded by farmland, the garden stretched up from the softly flowing brook that edged the lower slopes of the property. Olivia's eyes lifted, past rose and magnolia bushes to the old red brick home that had settled comfortably over the generations until it had become part of the landscape. There was a long spread of manicured lawns to cross and Olivia increased her pace as she passed through the creaking garden gate that gave access to the brook. As the sun sank, the grass was already sparkling with fine drops of dew. Faster she walked until she could see in the dimness a seated figure and Olivia knew with all the certainty of a woman in love who it was. Unable to hold back she broke into a faltering run. With her soft dress flowing behind her and the low sun coppering her cheeks she ran to the man she loved. A soft wind from the east moved across the gardens carrying her hastily dabbed splash of scent in its curling currents. A flush of sparrows lifted into the air startled by her long shadow as she was drawn towards her future.

Harry's eyes had softly closed, the cool evening air filled his nostrils, now the ghost of Olivia's perfume seemed more than a memory, a delicate trace of Gucci Bloom rode on the air and made him lift his eyes. The silk rose was still held delicately in his fingers as he looked beyond the magnolias down towards the line of the bottom fence. There he saw a running figure – an angel... but it was no angel it was his very own silk rose made flesh again. He struggled to lift himself from the chair and felt for the first time since his stabbing, a surge of energy. The return of his old strength summoning itself now that there was a reason to recover. The scent that had woken him from his morbid slumber was her scent, Olivia's and through the blur of his tears he finally saw her face. There she was, come home to him and his heart sang. It sang the same song that Olivia's heart sang as she ran now with all her speed to his arms.

Olivia no longer had any doubts. She was a true woman, forged anew in the fires of heartbreak. Here was her beloved man with arms outstretched for her... for her.

The End